


Not Even Touching

by joanlocked



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: ALL the UST, Angst, Cheating, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, UST, UST like it's raining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, seriously have i mentioned there will be UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-11 16:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17450030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joanlocked/pseuds/joanlocked
Summary: Elio and Oliver can't act on their feelings, so they make a simple arrangement.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again! I was inspired and I had to get it out of my system - and this time in the form of a chaptered fic! It's never happening again, I'm exhausted.
> 
> Betad by the lovely **Cee**.

Elio fanned himself lazily with his hand and took another sip from his glass, but the relief from the summer heat he was seeking was still nowhere to be found. He felt a light breeze on his face; it wasn't strong enough to prevent his hair from sticking to his damp forehead or dissuade him from smoking his cigarette, ash raining from its red tip.

It was a hot July evening, and though the villa was rarely short of guests, the garden was particularly crowded that night for a birthday celebration of one of Annella's sisters, much to the Malfalda’s displeasure. She liked to attend to the Perlmans' every need just as much as she disapproved having to do the same for the entirety of their very large family.

Elio smiled as he watched her rushing about, earning him a look of disapproval that made him chuckle. He leaned against a tree and turned his attention back to his wine, looking around idly.

When he met Oliver's gaze, he recognized the look in his eyes right away. He felt a wave of adrenaline rush over him as he took a last, long drag from his cigarette and dropped the fag on the ground, stepping on it. Oliver didn't look away while he downed the contents of his own flute, placing it blindly on the table before making his way towards him.

Elio smiled at him faintly. “Are you having fun?” He was only asking out of courtesy, but he knew perfectly well Oliver didn’t approach him for small talk.

“I am. Your cousin is a fucking brat.” Elio laughed at that, but Oliver cut him off before he could confirm the allegation. “Anyway, I don't think I'm the best of company tonight.”

Elio took another sip of his _fragolino_. “How so?”

Once again, he felt like Oliver could see right through him.

“You know why,” he said, stepping closer.

“I don't know,” Elio teased, sporting an innocent smile. “Care to explain?”

Oliver's eyes were piercing, but his expression and overall body language was quite the contrary. He had mastered the art of looking nonchalant while saying unspeakable things, so it wasn't hard for him to trick the people into thinking he was holding some innocent conversation about the weather, or his book, or his day. When he spoke next, it was with a serene smile on his lips.

“Because all I can think of is taking your clothes off, sitting you on that table and fucking you in front of everyone.”

Elio gulped and looked around. As he predicted, nobody was paying any attention to them, all too involved in their conversations or focused on dessert. He ran his tongue along his dry lips, running his hand through his hair. He wasn't bad at Oliver's game either, and he was sure nobody could tell he was growing hard in his jeans at that very moment.

He looked back at Oliver. “Someone really wouldn't appreciate that,” he said, gesturing to the table where Marzia and Maurizio sat, talking and laughing animatedly.

“Yeah, because everyone else would be so thrilled,” said Oliver, and this time his laugh was genuine.

“Who wouldn't?” Elio pressed his wine glass against his cheek, but it wasn't even remotely refreshing anymore. “I think we've always put on a hell of a show.”

Oliver groaned and palmed at his crotch briefly. “Shit, Elio,” he hissed. “My room?”

Elio smiled and licked a drop of wine off his fingers. “Your room.”

 

* * *

 

Ragged moans had already filled the room by the time Elio closed the door behind him. “You started without me,” he stated, no sign of surprise in his voice.

Oliver was lying on his bed completely clothed; he hadn't even bothered to slip out of his pants. He'd just unzipped them and freed his cock through the slit.

“You were taking too long,” he said without faltering, his hand pumping his dick fast.

“You know we can't disappear together,” Elio said, shoving his jeans down his thighs, and hurried to the other bed in the room. “I had to give you a head start.”

Oliver didn't answer, and just arched his back and pulled at his dick harder. Elio lay down on the covers and started mimicking his movements and pace, eyes meeting Oliver’s. “We have to be quick,” he managed through a moan.

“Yes,” Oliver agreed, quickening his pace accordingly. Elio's gaze slipped to Oliver's dick, and his mouth watered. He pictured himself licking it, teasing at the tip with his tongue, then taking it into his mouth while Oliver would pull at his hair, gently but demanding, looking at him all through it while Elio sucked his orgasm right out of him and swallowed everything as if that wasn't open to deals.

Elio squeezed at his shaft and groaned. He could feel his orgasm building, so fast it would've been embarrassing if it wasn't so convenient now.

Soon, Oliver arched and came. Elio covered his tip with his other hand and followed him, emptying himself on his fingers. Neither averted their gaze while they recovered from their high, panting hard. Elio's come was dripping from his hand but he didn't pay that any mind.

“That was good,” said Oliver, his breathing evening out. “Wasn't that good, Elio?”

Elio just lay there, staring at the ceiling. “This sucks,” he said.

Oliver sighed deeply and looked over at him sadly for a few stolen moments before sitting up and cleaning himself with a hand towel. He handed it to Elio before tucking his spent cock into his underwear. Elio did the same, and in a matter of seconds, it was as if nothing had happened at all.

“We should head back downstairs,” Elio said. Oliver just nodded and followed him out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still here!! I hope the same can be said for you all :)
> 
> Infinite thanks to **Cee** for making sense of the monumental mess I've made! If this thing is readable, you know whom to thank ♥

Oliver showed up in B. one morning in early July, not unannounced, since Mr. Perlman had invited him to spend another summer at the villa. It surprised Elio and everyone else a great deal that he actually accepted. Oliver had many important matters to tend to now than he had years before, he explained, but nothing that couldn't be put on hold for a month, as this was a chance to hop on a plane and fly to Italy again. He had been enjoying vacations from his job and was sure his wife and kids were more than happy to have him off their backs for a while anyway. Elio watched as his father laughed and patted Oliver on the back, proceeding to tell him over and over how happy they were to have him back.

Annella approached them with a wide smile on her face and was soon engulfed in a heartfelt hug that lifted her off her feet.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you again!” she exclaimed as soon as she touched ground again. “Dear, Elio will be so thrilled. It's all he's been talking about! Where is he? Elio!” She called in her son's direction when she caught sight of him standing not too far away.

Elio made his way towards them and stopped in front of Oliver. They looked at each other for a long moment, neither one moving nor speaking.

Oliver rubbed the back of his neck nervously. It was clear that he didn't know what to expect, or what Elio's reaction would be.

But when a wide, sincere smile broke across Elio’s face Oliver didn't hesitate to meet him halfway and wrap his arms around his still small frame. Oliver's hold was so strong it squeezed Elio's breath from him – or, that was what Elio told himself at least - but he still managed to call his name.

“Oliver.”

Oliver just held him tighter in response.

It's been seven years. It felt amazing to have him back.

 

* * *

 

It was sweet and odd in equal measure, of course, but Elio tried his best to conceal his feelings all the same. He thought he was over Oliver. Seven years was an eternity for a guy his age, and he was twenty-four now - exactly Oliver's age when he first stepped into his life.

When Oliver left, Elio had cried for weeks. He had been angry out of his mind. He had hated him for leaving, and even more for coming back to wreck him for good with the announcement of his wedding. He had stored that bitterly tearful last kiss in his mind for a long, long time, and it took him a while before he could shut Oliver in a compartment of his heart and move on, but eventually, that's what he did.

Elio now had a boyfriend who loved him very much. He'd literally bumped into Maurizio during a morning jog, and when the same incident happened a couple of days later, he'd suggested they meet up and run together in order to avoid any further collision. After a while Maurizio admitted that he had done it on purpose and officially asked him out. Elio cared for him dearly.

Not to mention, Oliver was married now. He had two young boys. He was unavailable both emotionally and physically - the opposite of the person he was that summer. He still looked gorgeous and was the ideal picture of a healthy man who had a fulfilling job and a large perfect family who loved him. To Elio, he was a happy person who lacked nothing in the world.

Oliver's happiness was all Elio could have ever hoped for in the first place. He couldn't harbor any grudge against him even if he tried.

 

* * *

 

Elio caught himself staring at Oliver a couple of times throughout the day. His was merely observing, of course, as he was fascinated by the way his features had changed with time. Elio would still blush when he got caught staring, by Oliver himself or, if he was really unlucky, one of his parents.

There were times when it was the other way around. One day, when Elio was picking at the strawberries on his plate after finishing breakfast, he looked up to find Oliver’s gaze on his mouth, he eyes emitting the same piercing look Elio had come to know very well back in the day.

Elio knew that nothing good could come out of it.

Oliver was so focused on Elio's mouth that he didn’t even notice he'd been caught. Elio grabbed another fresh strawberry and bit into it slowly, deliberately making a show of sucking its pulp out, and couldn't help feeling a great wave of satisfaction when Oliver blurted out that he'd forgotten something and excused himself.

 

* * *

 

“We need to talk,” Oliver said one night before Elio could retire to his room.

Elio frowned in confusion despite being quite sure what was to be discussed. “Sure. Want to come in?” he offered.

Oliver looked conflicted for a long moment. “No, not there,” he said, quickly. “But not here either. Let's go to the balcony.”

Elio knew Oliver probably didn't trust himself to be confined to an intimate space alone with him, and he was grateful for that. He didn't trust himself either. Despite the games he'd been playing, Elio had no intention to follow through with the teasing in any way. He followed Oliver outside, expectantly.

“There's still something between us.”

It wasn't a question, and he didn't give Elio any space to deny it.

So he didn't. “There is.”

Oliver let out the breath he was holding. “That's a problem. Shit.”

“It isn't,” Elio assured without delay. “I'm sorry. I'll be good, I promise. I have a boyfriend. You have a wife. We're happy, so there's no need to complicate things.”

Oliver gently took Elio's face into his hands. “How can we keep this up when I'm reminded how badly I want to kiss you every time I look at you?” he asked, softly.

Every inch of Elio's skin covered by Oliver's hands was burning. He didn’t expect to be touched like that. It sent electricity right down to his legs, turning them to jelly.

Elio thanked whatever gave him the strength to grab at Oliver's hands and peel them off his face, slowly. “We could start by not touching like that,” he pointed out, with all the sternness he could muster, which didn't stop Oliver from noticing that he was shaking nonetheless.

Oliver closed his eyes and sighed. “You're perfectly right. I'm sorry.”

“Maybe we should just… avoid each other. I don't know.”

“That didn’t really work the first time around.”

“We could try harder,” Elio suggested. “We know better now.”

Oliver laughed, wryly. “Elio, our rooms are separated by a thin wall. And I don't want to make things awkward for your family. We can't just pretend the other doesn't exist for an entire month,” he explained. “Plus, I miss you. We've always been friends first, Elio. I want to catch up. I want to spend time with you.”

Elio muffled a sarcastic laugh with his hand. “Friends. I definitely don't want to be friends with you.”

Oliver looked defeated. “Me neither. But what we want doesn't matter.”

Elio avoided his eyes and fished a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He lit one, savored the relaxing effect nicotine had on his system and let out a long puff of smoke before offering a stick to Oliver, who gladly accepted.

Instead of taking the lighter he was being offered, Oliver angled his face towards Elio's and used the burning tip of his cigarette to light up his own.

Elio could only hope the darkness of the night would conceal the blush on his cheeks. “Not off to a good start,” he warned, but a smile soon appeared on his lips, and they ended up laughing together.

They talked on the balcony for over a hour before heading back to their respective rooms.

 

* * *

 

Naturally, they only stood by their arrangement for a few days.

They spent a night out at Le Danzing with friends, where everyone had a drink or two more than they should. They all lived nearby and decided to walk home, saying their goodbyes when they reached the main crossroad. Chiara kissed Elio on both cheeks while Maurizio pressed a lingering peck on his mouth. Everyone else just waved in their direction and went on their way, stumbling on their feet and laughing obscenely loud for the late hour that it was.

Elio was still quietly laughing after they parted. He lifted his eyes and noticed Oliver staring at him. “What?” he asked, still chuckling.

“It's the first time I’ve seen you kiss someone else,” Oliver said, but he didn't sound jealous.

“You have no idea how many people I've kissed after you,” Elio said. It was an exaggeration; it wasn't that many after all, but Oliver didn't need to know that. He felt light-headed and hadn't been that pleasantly tipsy in a long time.

“That wasn't in front of me, goose,” Oliver pointed out. For some reason, that had Elio cracking up so hard that he had to stop in his steps and hold his stomach.

Still slightly buzzed, Oliver joined in, laughing noisily with him. He found support on a wall nearby so he wouldn't fall, reaching out and helping Elio on his feet again, his back to the brick wall.

Their breathy laughter faded out when Oliver pressed his face against Elio's collarbone before he could even contemplate whether to do it or not.

“No, no,” Elio whined in a weakly attempt to disentangle himself from Oliver's hold, but he was smiling. “Oliver, you can't.”

“I'm not doing anything,” Oliver insisted. His lips were grazing Elio's neck and ear now. He smelled of sweat and something uniquely Elio - but mostly sweat. Not even the liquor in Oliver's system could hide how the situation was turning him on.

“Oliver, Oliver... you're doing something,” was all Elio could say. He was holding Oliver by his shoulders, all weak attempts to move away long gone. “We can't be seen. Let's go home,” Elio mumbled, still trying to reason with him through the haze of alcohol.

Oliver agreed. “Okay.” He grabbed Elio's hand and dragged him forward, both of them laughing all the while.

 

* * *

 

When they reached the first floor, Elio ignored his own door and entered Oliver's room without need for an invitation.

Oliver shoved him up against the door. “We're drunk and you’re in my room, Elio. That's so not good,” he said, slurring his words. “You're naughty.”

Elio laughed softly and pushed him away. “This is my room, and you're wrong.”

“It's mine for the month,” Oliver reminded him. Before he could decide against it, he cupped Elio’s face and went for his lips, but he hesitated and turned at the last second only to have his mouth crash sloppily against Elio's cheek instead.

Elio moaned at the touch, and Oliver felt himself sobering up almost instantly. He pulled back abruptly, keeping Elio at an arm length when he tried to follow.

“We can't do this,” Oliver said, remembering their agreement. He pressed his palms against his eyes. “This is wrong.”

Oliver had stopped pushing, so now it was Elio's turn to pull. “Nothing happened,” he said, grabbing at his wrists and forcing Oliver to look at him again.

“It will if we keep on like that.”

“I have an idea.”

Elio was still clearly intoxicated, but Oliver closed his mouth and listened anyway, simply not in the mood to argue.

“Just... sit on your bed,” Elio said, pulling Oliver towards it. Oliver did as he was told and watched as Elio clumsily sat on the other one. He hadn't had any reason to push them together during this visit.

“Now look at me,” Elio continued.

“Yes.”

“And touch yourself.”

“What?” Oliver may have had a lot to drink, but even he was alert enough to feel uneasy about where this was heading. “No, Elio, we can't. We can't - ”

“Oliver, I won't do anything. You'll do it to yourself.” Elio ignored Oliver's pleas and was already unbuttoning his own pants. “I'll do the same,” he said, pushing a hand inside and wrapping it around his evident hard-on.

“Elio...” Oliver wanted to say it was a terrible, terrible idea, but the display in front of him was so enticing that the words died in his throat. Elio was touching himself while looking at him through half-closed eyelids. Oliver couldn't resist now even if tried. He palmed himself through his pants, hissing at the sensation, and finally slid a hand inside and pulled. The relief was so intense he thought he'd come on the spot.

“See?” Elio groaned, still stroking himself. “I'm not even touching you. We're not even touching.”

Oliver closed his eyes and nodded, his movements speeding up. He couldn't bear it anymore.

“We're not doing anything wrong.”

Oliver grunted loudly and found himself with a handful of come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick, lonely, bored ouf of my mind, fenced in my own house for the week-end... please pity me and leave this sad, sad sight a comment ♥


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating and chapter count going up, cause I can't control myself.
> 
> Thanks to **Cee** for being the greatest beta in the known universe.

If hearing Elio moan didn't completely sober him up, the orgasm sure did.

According to Oliver, they weren’t cheating by any conventional means, but coming down together from their peak felt weird and dirty anyway.

Elio quickly tucked himself in, awkwardly wished him a good night and disappeared in no time. That left Oliver to his thoughts, sitting there alone as the guilt started to seep in. His wife definitely didn't deserve this. Would she consider what happened as cheating? Probably. He loved her very much – just not in  _ that _ way, for obvious reasons, but he cared for her deeply. He also needed to be a role model for his sons.

Mostly, he didn't want to hurt Elio again.

 

* * *

 

Two nights later, Oliver was using the bathroom when he heard unmistakable noises coming from Elio's room: a bed creaking, followed by moans the thin wall between their rooms couldn't muffle.

It made him feel sick to his stomach. He knew Elio had a date with Maurizio earlier in the evening, and one event usually led to the next. He should have expected that tonight of all nights.

Oliver hurried back to his room and tucked himself under the sheets, but even they couldn't shield him from the intermittent sounds of the headboard banging against the wall.

He wondered if Elio was doing it on purpose.

Oliver didn’t have much time to dwell on it because, much to his dismay, he found himself growing hard. He couldn't believe his body was betraying him like that. Here he was overhearing Elio having sex with another man, and it was unequivocally turning him on. 

Given that he was already naked, it wasn't long before he reached for his cock with a trembling hand.

Oliver had only been stroking himself for a few minutes when the groans started getting louder and louder in the adjacent room. He squeezed his cock at the base and quickened his pace as he heard Elio's voice, more clear and high pitched now that he was approaching his climax –  _ sì, sì _ , he was moaning,  _ ancora, oh _ – and Oliver couldn't help picturing himself in Maurizio's place, that it was  _ him _ who was fucking Elio so good, him who was hitting that soft spot inside him that drove him crazy, over and over again. Oliver was stroking his cock so fast he could barely hear Elio over the obscene wet sounds he was making, but then Elio came and he  _ felt  _ it - heard his choked up sobs, remembering how he sounded and looked when it happened, and that was enough to push him over the edge as well.

Oliver lay there, basking in the most unsatisfying orgasm of his life until he dozed off.

He woke up about a hour later, cringing when he noticed dried semen on his belly. He got up, put on some sweatpants and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He was heading back to his room when the door connecting to Elio's room opened with a creak. Elio walked in, wearing only pajama bottoms and a tired look.

“Oh,” he gasped. “Sorry, I didn't hear you.”

“I did,” Oliver said on impulse.

Elio scratched at the nape of his neck, confused. “What?”

“Why did you do that, Elio?” Oliver asked, before he could overthink it. “Why are you constantly trying to make things more difficult than they already are?”

It finally dawned on Elio what he was referring to.

“I'm sorry,” he said simply.

Oliver took two steps towards him. “Elio, you need to understand time for playing dirty is over. You don't need to pul-”

“Did you like it?”

Oliver stared at him. “What?”

“Did you like it? Did it turn you on?” Elio went on, nonchalantly, as if he was asking what Oliver thought about dinner.

Oliver took another step closer. “I hated it….but it did turn me on,” he admitted.

Elio brought his hands to Oliver's face and smiled softly. He was so close that Oliver could feel his breath graze his skin. 

Oliver reacted by stroking Elio's cheek, unable to help himself. 

“Kiss me,” Elio said at last.

Oliver's heart skipped a beat. He wasn't expecting Elio to cave that quickly.

“We can't.”

“We can. It doesn't have to mean anything. It could be now and never again.”

“I'd want it again. I'd want you again.”   
  
“Me too.”

Oliver let out a harsh laugh. “See?”

His hands were still cupping Elio's soft face. Elio's fingers were still strumming gently on his chest. 

Oliver tucked one of Elio's curls behind his ear. “Did you like it?” He asked, turning Elio’s question back on him.

“Yes,” Elio said. “He fucks me good.”

Another pause. “How was it?”

“On my hands and knees.”

Oliver smiled faintly and brought his mouth to Elio ear. “So you could imagine it was someone else?” He bit teasingly at Elio's lobe and pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss on his cheek.

Elio looked at him without answering, but the lustful look in his eyes spoke volumes. “I'll go, before I do something stupid.”

“Yes, go. Good night, Elio,” said Oliver, pulling back the hand that was caressing Elio's face, and soon enough, he was gone.

 

* * *

 

It all spiraled out of control after that.

Once they both accepted that they could tease each other and continue their arrangement without touching, it became routine.

Oliver would touch Elio's foot under the table while they were having dessert, or touch his arm or shoulder casually while they were having a conversation, both actions boldly reminiscent of the past, as the air around them remained constantly charged. 

On the other hand, Elio's techniques of seduction were more subtle. He would mostly abstain from direct contact, as he didn't need to raise a finger to make Oliver shiver in need - not when he had that sharp look in his eyes, the loose swing in his hips and lips so dry he needed to wet them every so often with that skilled tongue of his. 

Oliver would then confront Elio, or the other way around, and within minutes they were stumbling into Oliver's room, careful to avoid any unnecessary touching, and proceeded to get all that pent up frustration out of their system as fast as they could.

One day, though, Elio didn't feel like rushing it.

“I just want to watch you,” he said as he sat down next to Oliver on his bed, earning him a look of concern. Usually Elio would just do what he had to do on the other bed, wisely out of reach.

Oliver hesitated for a moment before continuing with the usual routine. “Okay,” he conceded.

Oliver could feel Elio's eyes on him as he freed his erection and rubbed it softly at first, hissing, then proceeded to wrap his hand around it and started pumping. His movements grew fast, desperate, and Elio knew Oliver was going to come soon - too soon. Elio knew why, knew that Oliver didn't trust him nor himself to behave in that proximity and was aiming at getting his orgasm over with as soon as possible.

His eyes followed every expression on Oliver's face, every drop of perspiration gathering on his brow, wishing he could swallow every moan that was escaping his sweet mouth. When his gaze finally wandered down to his groin, Elio wished he could swallow that too; he was so close and Oliver's eyes were shut. He could easily take it in his mouth before Oliver could react, and he wouldn't have the strength nor the will to stop him - not when Elio was already sucking and moaning around his cock. 

He  _ could _ have, but in the end decided against it. That left his hard-on still trapped in his underwear, ignored.

“Do it with me. It'll be so good,” Oliver insisted. Elio could tell he was close. He knew all the signs and could write books about this very moment - how Oliver's face and moans would change when he was approaching his climax.

He was so frantically turned on that he needed to do something, anything to keep him grounded, so he reached out slowly and placed a warm hand on what he felt was neutral territory: Oliver's trembling thigh. 

It was instantaneous. Oliver stilled his wrist and opened his eyes wide as he came all over his shirt, groaning so loud that would have had Elio worrying if he hadn't known the house was empty. He hadn't seen that coming, and Oliver hadn't either if the look on his face was anything to go by. He looked at Elio in panic and disbelief, like he'd betrayed his trust in the worst possible way.

“Why did you do that,” he managed, still panting hard. “Shit.”   
  
“Oliver, it's nothing,” Elio rushed to explain, his hand still on Oliver's thigh.

Oliver shoved it away. “You made me come,” he said, his voice shaking. “ _ You _ made me come.” He sat there and covered his face with his hands, clearly too upset to even care that his dick was still lying spent on his stomach.

“Oliver...”

“Please don't talk.” Oliver zipped his pants and stood up to pull his stained shirt off roughly before tossing it across the bed.

“You're not being fair.”

“No, Elio, I'm being  _ perfectly _ fair,” Oliver said, angrily. “I'm the only one being fair here. We have rules. We have boundaries. We'll talk about it when I can actually bear to look at your face.”

Elio was quietly looking at him from his spot on the bed. He opened his mouth, considering his words, but at the end settled for silence, eyes downcasted.

Oliver sighed and went to sit next to him. “Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I know how hard it is for you. Fuck, it’s hard for me too.” He rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to calm down. “But we've been good, Elio. I need you to try harder. I want to be good.”

“I want you to kiss me,” Elio said, shoulders slumped. “I want you to touch me.”   
  
Oliver took Elio's face in his hands as if it were made out of the finest glass. “You know I want that too, and maybe more than that,” he reminded Elio. “But we can't. It's not right.”

“Not everything has to be right, Oliver.” 

“I'm sorry,” Oliver said, stroking Elio's face and hair gently. Elio leaned into his touch, savoring the feeling. He knew Oliver was right, but he wasn't ready to drop it yet.

“Seriously though, what's stopping us? Maurizio isn't here. Your wife isn't here. We're alone. Nobody would know,” Elio said. “I mean, look at us.” He gestured at the space between them, drawing attention to their bodies and the way they naturally gravitate towards the other, Oliver holding his face, breathing in the same air.

“We just can't help ending up in situations like this,” Oliver said, shaking his head with a half smile.

Elio hummed in agreement. He moved closer, shortening the distance between them to finally kiss him - but ended up pressing his lips against Oliver’s fingers instead of his face.

Elio frowned, disappointed, but still kept at it - kissing Oliver's digits, unbothered, never breaking eye contact. He guided Oliver’s fingers between his lips, tracing the contours slowly with his tongue. It took every bit of self-control Oliver had to pull back.

Oliver let out his breath slowly. “Behave,” he said, not really meaning it, running his fingers, now wet with spit, along Elio's chin and neck and stroking gently.

“I'm going to try and kiss you again if you keep doing that,” Elio warned him, but he was grinning.

Oliver smiled softly in return and sighed as he drew back, got up and left for the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I treasure every comment! Please share your thoughts with me :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was overwhelmed by the response on last chapter!! You're amazing :)
> 
> As always, betad by **Cee**! Thank you.

“Boy, I could use another bowl of popcorn! Elio?” When Elio gave him a scolding look, Maurizio just laughed and shrugged it off. “Marzia?”

“Do you ever stop eating? It's not like my parents ever let you starve at dinner,” Elio remarked, pinching at Maurizio’s sides. His boyfriend chuckled and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, kissing him on the nose.

“Don't mind him, I'll share some with you,” said Marzia, rolling her eyes. She grabbed Maurizio by an arm and dragged him away. “Come on, the break only lasts ten minutes. We need to get in line if we don't want to miss the second half.”

“I need to use the bathroom,” Elio told them. “See you inside,” He waved at them and pushed the door behind him to the theater restroom, eyes immediately in search of Oliver. He was nowhere to be seen, so Elio just chose a stall and went in to relieve himself. When he got to the sink, Oliver was already washing his hands.

Elio turned on the tap and squirted a large amount of liquid soap on his hands. “How are you liking the movie?” He smiled at Oliver's reflection in the mirror.

Oliver glanced around looking for a hand towel, and when he couldn't find one, he swore and dried his hands on his pants. “I guess I'm a bit distracted,” he finally said.

“How?” Elio turned off the tap and walked over, using Oliver's pants to dry his own hands. “They were already damp anyway,” he said and smiled up at him.

Oliver paid him no attention and was busy scanning the room. Elio barely had time to register the situation when he was suddenly pushed into a stall and pinned firmly against the wall.

“You drive me crazy,” Oliver groaned, holding Elio's neck with one hand while the other closed the door beside them. “Fuck, Elio.”

“How?” asked Elio weakly, all of his blood rushing south already. He was genuinely confused for once; he hadn't done anything to provoke Oliver, at least not on purpose.

Oliver nipped at his neck with his teeth. “Your smell. Your shirt,” Elio smiled at that. He was wearing the same red and white striped shirt he had on when he first tried to impress Oliver during one of their very first evenings together. Years later, it was still working its wonders. “The way you let your boyfriend get all over you in the dark.” Another bite, almost as a mild punishment.

That made Elio chuckle softly. “He just had a hand on my leg.”

“Well,” said Oliver finally parting ways with Elio's collarbone so he could look him in the eye. “I still hate it.”

“You have no right,” mumbled Elio. “I'm always asking you to touch me, and you never do.”

“You don't mean that.”

“I do. I'm past caring.”

Oliver backed off, but held Elio's stubborn gaze. “Fine. So why don't you do something about it?”

“What do you mean?” Elio fisted Oliver's shirt in his hand in frustration.

“I'm right here,” Oliver said. “If you really want me, stop asking me to kiss you and kiss me first.”

“I tried the other night, and you stopped me with your _hand_ , like I was some kind of animal.”

“Oh please,” Oliver said sharply. “You gave me all that time to stop you because you knew I would have. Because you expected me to be the reasonable one.”

Elio was lost for words. He couldn't argue any of that.

“You allow yourself to bend the rules and put the weight of responsibility on me, on my conscience - hoping that I would be the one to keep us both in line if things get too far,” Oliver pointed out. “Careful, Elio. I'm getting tired of this.”

Elio just stared at him.

“I know what you're doing,” he said after a long moment of silence.

“And what am I doing?”

“You're trying to provoke me when you think there’s no time to start anything. It’s how you play this game,” Elio concluded in a whisper. “That way, you’d never have a chance to misbehave or do anything you’d regret. Well luckily for you, our time's running out, and my boyfriend is waiting for us outside. Not to mention, anyone could walk in on us any second now.”

Oliver laughed soundly. “You're really overestimating me here,” he said, emphasizing his words by rubbing his clothed hard cock against Elio's. That alone elicited a loud moan from them both. Elio had to agree with him that, in that instance, time was hardly an issue - not when they were so aroused they could both come in a matter of seconds.

Oliver's hand was still on Elio's neck and Elio's hands were on Oliver's chest, their groins pressed together, eyes glistening with want, breath coming out in gasps as if they were already fucking.

“Oliver,” Elio said, panting, and within seconds his tongue was busy in Oliver's mouth, his hands buried in his hair, pulling hard, so hard that Oliver groaned and shoved him harder against the wall. Elio lost no time in finding his mouth again, engaging in the most violent and satisfying kiss they had ever shared - hot, wet and rough - their hands everywhere. Oliver tilted Elio's head back with such force it was borderline painful, but he more than welcomed it because finally, _finally_ he didn't need to rely on memories anymore to recall the taste of Oliver's mouth.

Elio had no idea who started it nor did he care. All that mattered was Oliver's tongue in his mouth and Oliver’s hands on his hips, his ass, grasping so tightly that there would likely be signs on his skin the next day. The thought of that didn't bother him; on the contrary, it turned him on even more. Elio wanted Oliver to mark him. He wanted everyone to know what they'd done. It felt like he could finally breathe again.

Oliver barely had time to pull back for a gulp of air before Elio seized the opportunity to push him backwards until he had Oliver's back to the wall. He pressed his whole body against him, but stilled Oliver's face when he tried to resume the kiss, letting only their noses brush and breaths ghost over their abused lips. Elio ran his hands down Oliver's body fast and began fumbling with his belt. “Fuck me,” he ordered, breathily, arching against him and finally letting Oliver crush their lips together again.

“Elio?”

They both froze when they heard Maurizio's voice, but their lips were still locked, neither daring to move.

“Come on, the movie's starting,” Maurizio said lazily.

“Coming,” Elio said, his eyes not leaving Oliver's.

As soon as they heard the door slam shut Elio pulled back, got out the bathroom stall and hurried to the mirror to fix himself up, but to no avail. Messy hair, blushed cheeks and plump red lips – he definitely looked like he just got laid.

He glanced at Oliver through the mirror. He was leaning on the wall, his breath heavy, eyes on the floor.

“Wait a minute, then join us,” Elio suggested.

“Yes. I need a, um, minute anyway,” replied Oliver, pointing at the obvious bulge in his pants.

A little, satisfied smile broke across Elio's flushed lips.

“We'll talk when we get home,” Elio assured him, and he was out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is quite short, but I felt like it was a pivotal moment in the story and I didn't want to water it down with other scenes. Hopefully you appreciated this chapter anyway? *keeps fingers crossed*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betad by **Cee** , who can always pretty this story up like no one else! Thank you.

Once they had exited the theater Marzia and Maurizio suggested that they discuss the movie together over drinks, pointing out that it was still too early to call it a night. Oliver excused himself though, telling everyone that he felt tired and wanted to head back to the villa to rest.

Elio gave him a confused look, but Oliver simply waved at them and, after turning down Maurizio's offer to buy him first call, hopped on his bike and vanished.

Elio reluctantly followed the others, but was rather absent for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

“I thought we needed to talk.”

Elio had unceremoniously stepped into Oliver's room a couple of hours later, well into the night, quite certain that he wouldn't find him asleep and not caring even if he was.

As he predicted, Oliver was lying on his bed with the lights off but looked as though he'd never been so far from falling asleep in his life. The gears were still working in his head, not letting him rest even if he wanted to.

Oliver sat up on his bed and reached for the bedside lamp, turning it on with a click. “I'm not sleeping,” he said, unnecessarily.

Elio closed the door behind him quietly and stepped closer to the bed. “Why did you leave?” he asked.

“I felt like my head would explode if I stayed another minute near you without being able to talk about what happened,” Oliver explained. “I needed out.”

Elio sighed and sat on the bed. “Well, I'm here now.”

“We can’t here. Not like this.”

“Like what?”

“You and me. Talking about it alone in the middle of the night, in my room. You and I already know it won’t end well.”

“Are you telling me it was a mistake?”

“What did you think?” Oliver turned to look at him. “Of course it was.”

Elio's face hardened instantly. He looked hurt and angry, all at once.

“Elio, what changed?” Oliver grabbed Elio by his arms and regretted it right away, letting go just as quickly. They were both too emotionally weak, and the last thing they needed were unnecessary touches. “We agreed on the rules we've established. We were following them, but then you just... gave up.”

Elio sighed and covered Oliver's hand with his own. “I'm so tired of this.”

Oliver stroked the pads of Elio’s palm with his thumb and waited for him to go on.

“I can’t _not_ feel anything around you,” he finally whispered.

“Me too,” Oliver found himself admitting.

Elio looked up at him. “All we've ever done is think of us as a mistake. Seven years ago, too, you said the same thing - that we need to behave. Now, we know how it's going to end. We've been here before.”

“I'm not questioning our feelings. I never did,” Oliver said. “I just want to be good and not hurt the people dear to us. What about Mauriz-”

“I wanted to break up with him tonight.”

Oliver’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I didn't though,” Elio said, shaking his head. “I couldn't.”

“Why, Elio?”

Elio was starting to lose his patience. “What's the point?” he said, irritably. “Sure, he's a nice guy, and I like him - maybe I even _love_ him - but then you come back and you're all I can think about and I have to fucking jerk off constantly so I don't jump you! How can I believe our relationship is not a joke?”

Oliver sighed and pulled away from Elio, crossing his legs on the bed. “Elio, I want you to know that what I’m about to say next is something I wish I didn’t have to say at all,” he stated, as Elio held his gaze expectantly. “We can't be together. There’s no future for us. We may mess around now, but our lives took different roads, on two different _continents_ , years ago. You would do better to find happiness elsewhere.”

Elio's eyes flashed dangerously, but his voice was firm when he spoke. “Like you did?”

Oliver smiled softly. “Yes.”

“Are you happy with your family?”

Oliver wasn't expecting that question, but he didn’t falter. “Yes.”

“Do you love your wife?”

A short pause. “I do. In a way.”

Elio laughed, joylessly. “That's such bullshit. You want _me_.”

“Yes,” Oliver said, because there was nothing contradictory about that in his mind.

“You know what? I let Maurizio fuck me in his car after we left the pub,” Elio added quickly. “I wanted to break up with him, but I ended up riding him in the backseat.”

It felt like a slap to Oliver's face. “Okay,” was all he could say.

Oliver would've asked how that had any relevance to their conversation, or why Elio had felt the need to share that bit of information with him in the first place, but he couldn't because Elio was suddenly all over him - kissing him hard while straddling his legs. He didn't have time to think; his mind was screaming for Elio to stop but his body was moving on its own accord, reacting to Elio's desperate kisses enthusiastically and grabbing at his nape to hold him there.

Elio was hard, as he probably had been for a good part of their conversation. Oliver couldn't help thinking that, if what Elio told him wasn't just mere provocation, Maurizio must not have been a very satisfying fuck.

It wasn’t until Elio broke the kiss to take off his shirt that Oliver noticed the tears streaming down his face. “Elio, what-”

“Shut up,” Elio said, cutting him off hastily to resume the kiss, but it was too late. The spell was broken for Oliver.

“Elio, no, no,” he gasped, trying to take a hold of Elio's arms to restrain him.

Oliver thought he’d have to somehow persuade him, maybe even fight or manhandle him so he would stop, but Elio just yelled “Fuck!” and stood up abruptly, roughly wiping his tears with the back of his hand. He didn't wait for Oliver to respond and left through the door to his room, slamming it so hard behind him that it banged open again.

Oliver sat on the bed, too shocked to move as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. One moment Elio was randomly telling him that he’d had sex with his boyfriend, and the next thing he knew Elio was all over him, which then led to Elio crying and fleeing the room.

He allowed himself a few minutes to gather his thoughts, rubbing his face in his hands, replaying the events since his visit over and over again in his head. He was so tired - tired of having to deal with his feelings, Elio's feelings, his conscience, and his own unreasonable jealousy. He was so tired of resisting.

He had to confront Elio.

Oliver got up from the bed and slowly approached the door. He knew Elio was upset and probably didn't feel like seeing him at the moment, but they needed to settle the terms once and for all. He knocked softly but, as expected, received no answer.

So he went in.

Elio was lying in bed, covered up to his chin by a thin white sheet. It didn’t take long for Oliver to notice the erratic movements taking place beneath the covers, an activity he was all too familiar with the past few weeks.

“Are you...?”

“What do you think?” Elio snapped but continued on, acting as if Oliver had never stepped in.

Oliver sat on the edge of the bed. “Elio, please stop. We need to talk.”

“We have talked.” Elio sounded furious, but his movements ceased as he shifted under the covers in frustration. He sat up with his back to the headboard and stuck his hands out from under the blankets for good measure. “You've made yourself perfectly clear.”

“Please don't be mad,” Oliver pleaded softly, reaching out for Elio's face without daring to touch it. “I'm just trying to do the right thing.”

Elio grabbed Oliver's raised hand and placed it on his face, closing his eyes at the touch. His cheeks were still damp with tears, but Oliver's presence was clearly having a calming effect on him. When Elio finally spoke, it was as if all the anger had dissipated to make way for desolation.

“Why can't this just be...”

“What?”

Elio shrugged. “I don't know. Right.”

“I'm sorry.” That seemed to be the only thing Oliver could say lately.

“It's just that,” Elio started, rubbing at his eyes, “we're giving up on so much. I know we're not meant to be, and I guess deep down I've always known.” He took a breath, considering his next words after noticing the defeated expression on Oliver's face. “But we're here now. The significant others in our lives will always be second choice whether we decide to acknowledge it or not.”

Elio started stroking Oliver's thigh slowly, and even though Oliver knew nothing good could come of it, he felt that he had no right to scold him - not when his own hand was still grazing Elio's face softly.

“I know it sounds really selfish,” Elio continued, “but we're ripping out so much of ourselves already. We've been doing it for seven years and probably will for the rest of our lives. I just want to do something good for myself for once.” He looked up at Oliver, point-blank. “So I guess what I'm trying to say is... would it really be that _bad_ if we kissed right now?”

Oliver clamped his jaw shut. Elio didn’t divert his eyes, every part of him refusing to back off now. He was demanding an answer, and Oliver didn't have the energy or desire to run from it anymore.

“Don't we deserve some happiness too, Oliver?” Elio’s voice was barely a whisper. Oliver probably wouldn't have heard him if his lips weren’t so close that he could practically read them and feel the puff of each word on his skin.

“You sure turn philosophical when you're horny,” Oliver said, trying to keep things light. He knew that he had succeeded when Elio bursted out laughing.

“It's not that,” Elio said, smiling. “I know, I should stop pressuring you.” Yet, his hand was climbing up Oliver's leg despite his apologies, stopping only to stroke dangerously close to his groin. “And I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”

“Good,” said Oliver, though he was hardly listening.

“Good,” repeated Elio. “Friends, then?” His hand went on ruffling Oliver's hair gently, while his other hand still resided on Oliver's thigh, his gaze steadily on Oliver's mouth.

“Mmm,” said Oliver, who then hooked his hand around Elio’s neck, closed the gap between them, and kissed him.

Oliver didn’t know what got into him. He didn't know if he genuinely stood by Elio’s view on the matter or if he was simply past caring. Maybe Elio was right. Maybe they have been putting their own lives on the backburner long enough to have earned this moment. Maybe it was just easier to believe that. It didn't matter either way.

It started off as a gentle kiss, just two pairs of lips barely grazing. That didn’t last long though - not after so many weeks of pent up longing - and soon, Elio was groaning and wrapping his arms around Oliver's neck, squirming until he was almost on his lap and angling his face so he could deepen the kiss. In turn, Oliver ran his large hands up and down Elio's back, burying them in Elio's hair and tugging him backwards until Elio was lying underneath him.

Now that the momentum was set, all inhibition was gone. Oliver shoved his tongue in Elio's mouth as Elio grasped the hem of Oliver's shirt to pull it over his head, not wasting any time to reach over and tug at his pants as well.

“Get these fucking clothes off,” Elio said, as he pulled Oliver's pants and underwear off his hips, just enough for his cock to spring free.

Oliver didn't know how he got Elio naked, or if Elio had taken matters into his own hands, but they quickly found themselves skin to skin. All the blood was rushing to his dick, and he could barely see through the fog of lust clouding his senses. The reality of the situation was unequivocal: they were on a bed, alone, naked, and hard – which was exactly what they've been trying to avoid all along - but this time, Oliver was no longer wishing it away.

Oliver held Elio's legs to his chest to get a better hold of his ass, squeezing it and pulling him upward as he started to grind against him, allowing their dicks to collide for the first time in years. The mere act elicited a loud, relieved moan from both of them.

“Say no,” Oliver gasped, when they were so slick with sweat and precome that his dick began sliding down between Elio's thighs, nudging at his opening. “Say no, and I will stop.”

“No,” Elio said immediately. “I will never say no to you again.”

Oliver swore and ran a single finger slowly down Elio's legs. Elio grasped it before he could reach his crease.

“No need to,” Elio said, shyly. Oliver frowned in confusion at first, staring down at Elio, who bit his bottom lip uneasily. “I'm ready.” Realization finally hit Oliver, who couldn't help feeling a little nauseous at the thought, although he knew very well he had no right to.

“Elio, I -” Oliver shifted back awkwardly, shaking his head.

“I’m okay,” Elio reassured him, placing a hand on his. “Are you?”

“I am,” Oliver said. “I just - ”

“Maurizio,” Elio muttered, not missing a beat. “We, um, always use protection.”

“But you didn’t with me.”

“Because it was you,” Elio said, earnestly. “I trust you. Always have. Do you trust me?”

Oliver swallowed and nodded.

Elio blindly fished something out of his night stand and pushed it into Oliver's hand. It was a small bottle of lube, half full.

“Just put some of this on,” Elio said, grabbing at Oliver's shaft as if he needed guidance, “and get in me.”

Oliver groaned and rolled on top on him, kissing him so hard and deep he thought it would’ve felt unpleasant if Elio wasn't kissing back just as eagerly.

When Oliver pressed his lubed tip against Elio's hole, he didn't think about how loose and slick he was from recent intercourse. He didn't think about protection – though he probably should have, considering all he had at stake and everything that’s happened since then – because he trusted Elio with his own life and was sure the feeling was mutual. In that pivotal moment, he didn't - couldn’t - think about his life back home.

When he finally pushed inside, Oliver only thought about how Elio's eyes were shining bright, how his nails were digging deep into his shoulders and his legs were tightening around his hips, how his swollen lips were parted in pure pleasure.

Oliver grabbed the top of the headboard with a trembling hand, followed by the other, holding himself up until he was hovering over Elio.

Being inside Elio's body was a sensation he had never thought he'd feel again. It was unlike any other connection he’d ever experienced. He couldn't believe that he tried to forget how gorgeous Elio looked like this: flushed, trembling, vulnerable. Elio was reminding him now, squeezing him from the inside to let him know that he was ready.

Oliver started moving slowly, intent on not rushing it. Elio's hair was fanned out on his pillow, his breathing hitched and hurried, his eyes never leaving Oliver's once, not even when his moans grew louder in pitch, head turning from side to side.

Oliver’s thrusts were slow but deep and sharp, and Elio met every single one of them rhythmically, initially clutching at the sheets. But he didn't want cotton - he wanted skin. Elio soon reached up for Oliver's shoulders and pulled him down so that they were pressed against each other, chest to chest. Oliver kissed him again as he kept sliding in and out of him, swallowing his every moan.

“Harder,” Elio gasped against his lips. “Harder.”

Oliver had planned on taking it slow to savor every minute of it, but he couldn't deny Elio anything. He pulled out almost completely before slamming back in, down to the root. A proud smile broke across his face when Elio arched off the bed and threw his head back in pleasure.

He seized the opportunity to latch onto Elio's neck, kissing and nipping at it while he started hammering into him. That seemed to be more than fine with Elio, who was letting out the prettiest noises and scratching at his back so wildly he was probably drawing blood.

“Fuck, like that,” Elio panted. Oliver tried to preserve the angle so he could deliver exactly what Elio wanted. He knew he was doing well when Elio loosened his hold on his shoulders and went back to gripping at the sheets, moaning and shaking all the while. After another hard thrust, Elio arched his back beautifully and came, painting Oliver's stomach and his own. He fell back on the bed, breathing raggedly.

Oliver leaned in and hid his face in the crook of Elio's neck. He was so close, and it didn’t help that Elio was squeezing at his buttocks to spur him on. Knowing how very sensitive Elio was after he came, Oliver granted his body the last few thrusts, tasting the salt on Elio's skin and inhaling his sweet scent. He then slid out of that blissful heat and kneeled between Elio's spread legs.

“Yes,” Elio said when Oliver took his own wet dick in his fist and jerked it fast and hard. Elio lifted himself up on his elbows, obviously mesmerized by the sight and didn't look away from Oliver's face once in the final seconds it took for him to come, not even when Oliver's warm load joined his own on his chest.

The orgasm was so intense Oliver's thighs failed him, and he collapsed, crushing Elio under his weight. He rolled over and found Elio's chin with a hand, tilting it towards him so that he could kiss him again, his labored breathing preventing him from making it good. Elio didn't seem to mind and licked at Oliver's open lips sweetly.

They lay there, catching their breath and holding each other close, bodies entangled, and didn't say anything for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws confetti* finally!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Only an epilogue left. I'm still fiddling around with it, but I hope I can share it with you soon!
> 
> A penny for your thoughts? :)


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, **Cee**! ♥

Elio tripped over his feet as Oliver pushed him into their room one night in late July, both of them chuckling softly. Elio had to grab hold of Oliver’s shoulders so he wouldn't stumble again, but since he was still struggling to keep balance, Oliver ended up hooking his arms under Elio's knees to lift him up and carry him in his arms.

Elio kept laughing as he got thrown on the bed, and soon Oliver was lying on top of him, shutting him up with a deep kiss.

They’d made a trip to Genova with a car full of friends earlier that day and had to momentarily suppress their feelings again, avoiding any interaction that would come across as fishy. They made do, settling for charged side looks and subtle play of footsies during lunch when they were sure nobody would notice. The mandatory abstinence from intimate contact had been more than enough to fuel the burning desire they had for each other.

That night, they were too tired and worked up to engage in anything more than lazy dry humping. They slowly lost their clothes and reached their well-deserved relief, the silence only broken by the softest of sobs, with one of Oliver's hands wrapped around both their dicks and the other intertwined with Elio's tightly on the mattress.

Their bodies were a mess of sweat and come by the end of it, which prompted them to move to the bathtub. They let the streaming hot water do the work while they shared sloppy kisses. At some point Elio's back was pushed almost unpleasantly against the cold tiles, but he didn't pay that any mind.

They found themselves lounging naked by the window minutes shortly before midnight, in the hope that the warm summer breeze would dry their wet hair while they smoked.

“Shit, I could really use those _trofie al pesto_ left-overs from today now,” Oliver said, a tad regretful. He'd loved the Genoese typical dish, but the serving had been so generous he'd found himself stuffed before he could see the bottom of his plate.

Elio took a drag and smiled at him. “It looked delicious. I wanted to steal some, but I was afraid it would look too suspicious.” He exhaled and watched the smoke dissipate into the night air.

“Very Italian of you to think sharing a dish is an indication of a sexual affair,” Oliver joked, bumping shoulders with him teasingly.

Elio snorted. “I don't know - what if you tried to sensually hand-feed me?”

“Hand-feed _pasta_? And stain my beautiful fingers with some oily sauce? Not even for you, my dear,” Oliver said, chuckling as he bent over to kiss Elio. Elio met him with equal fervor, their mouths unlocking with a loud smack.

“Seriously, though,” Oliver said, “you could have asked. Nobody would suspect a thing.”

Elio smiled at that. He couldn't help looking back on an event that had occurred only a few days prior.

His mother had followed him up to his room after breakfast one day to fetch a book she'd let Elio borrow, raising an eyebrow in confusion as soon as she caught sight of Elio's still-made bed. He’d froze then, realizing his mistake, and knew the questions would come. He had been at a loss for words when she asked where he'd slept and why his bed was untouched. Feeling cornered, he’d blurted out that he had made it himself, knowing full well that his mother wouldn’t be so naive as to fall for it. No member of the family needed to make their own bed, as tidying up the chambers was one of Mafalda's many tasks - though she usually didn't have the time to tend to it until mid-morning. Annella hadn't spared him a chance to make any other excuses; she'd just frowned at her son and walked to the bed, lifting the sheets up and hitting the mattress and the pillow with her fist until she stood back, satisfied with the result. “I thought I raised you to be more clever than that,” she had told him with a wry smile. “Mafalda isn't like me. She would ask very inconvenient questions.” She’d then proceeded to grab her copy of _La Chimera_ from Elio's desk and exited the room without waiting for a response.

It had been embarrassing, and if nothing else, a sobering reminder for Elio to be extra careful every day after that.

Elio hadn't shared that particular incident with Oliver, knowing that it would only worry him, so he just kept his mouth busy with his cigarette.

“I don't even smoke back home,” Oliver said as he examined the stick between his two fingers.

“I figured,” Elio said. Oliver turned to him with a questioning look. “You weren't a smoker seven years ago either. You told me, remember? You just smoked occasionally during your visit here, for reasons you’ve never explained.”

Oliver stared at him, with just the barest hint of a smile.

“It's like this place turns you into another version of yourself,” Elio said, tapping his cigarette absentmindedly to get rid of the ashy tip. “Like there's a parallel life waiting for you every time you step foot in B.”

Oliver took one last, long drag and stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray that they had taken with them to the window, holding Elio's gaze all the while.

“Stop staring into my soul,” Oliver said. He was smiling freely now. “It's creepy and kind of arousing, if I’m being honest.”

Elio laughed and kissed him square on the lips, bringing a hand behind his neck to hold him there.

“Are you ready to go back?” Elio asked before he could change his mind, pulling back just enough to allow Oliver to speak. He had managed to avoid the talk for weeks now but knew the subject would inevitably sneak up on them at some point, whether or not they chose to address it.

“Yes,” Oliver said and closed his eyes. “I miss them. It's time.”

Elio drew back with a sigh, leaning on his elbows against the window sill. “So, tomorrow?”

“Yep,” Oliver said, popping the “p”, and looked out into the night. “Tomorrow.”

Elio's stub joined Oliver's in the ashtray. “We wasted so many days,” he said, still poking at the cigarette butt long after it was properly extinguished. “I know, I know, no speeches,” he rushed to add when Oliver sent him a look halfway between wary and concerned. “I'm just thinking out loud.”

Elio had a strong feeling Oliver wasn't very keen on revisiting what had already been discussed at length. To reassure him, Elio made a gesture of zipping his lips shut.

Oliver didn't reply. He hugged Elio from behind, wrapping his arms around the boy's slim stomach. “We're hopeless, always repeating the same mistakes over and over,” Oliver said, after a short pause. His voice was low and calm, his warm breath grazing Elio's face.

“But what if instead of talking about it...” Oliver continued, stroking Elio's damp hair out of the way so he could pepper his neck with light kisses. Elio threw his head back, giving him access to more skin. “...we make up for all those wasted days?”

Oliver's hand traveled slowly from Elio's belly down to his hardening dick, tracing the shaft with his fingers before closing around it and pulling gently. Elio hissed, his head still resting on Oliver's shoulder, sighing as Oliver began sucking at the skin on his neck. Oliver sure knew how to shut him up.

Elio turned around and said nothing as he pushed Oliver towards the bed, which didn't require much effort. Oliver was more than willing to follow his lead, sitting back readily against the headboard.

Before he could move any further, Elio held him by the shoulders, climbed onto his thighs, and straddled him. He grabbed his hand and brought it up to his mouth to kiss the tip of each digit. Neither averted their eyes while Elio sucked two of Oliver’s fingers into his mouth, licking around them eagerly and covering them thoroughly with spit. Oliver groaned and pulled them out before Elio could be fully satisfied with the task, though he barely had time to whine about it when Oliver crushed their lips together again. He ran his wet fingers down Elio's back to his crease, pushing inside all at once.

Oliver let Elio ride him at his own pace, barely doing much aside from clutching at his hips and whispering words of encouragement while he stared at the sight in front of him, mesmerized. He wanted it to last, directing his focus solely on the feeling of Elio's body sliding up and down around him, on the warm flesh beneath his hands, and on Elio's face. He watched as Elio's features twisted with pleasure, his eyes closed shut and his lips parted and wet each time he moistened them with his tongue. Oliver wanted to create a perfect memory of that very moment so that he could revisit it in times of need. He wanted to remember how Elio looked when he was totally exposed. Oliver ran his hand through Elio’s hair and tilted his head down, asking Elio to look at him. He wanted to make a note of his eyes and the way they looked up close when he was too far gone, or the way he moaned and trembled when he was about to come. Oliver wanted – needed – to take it all in and burn that image forever in his mind _._

He made sure they came together, knowing full well that he wouldn't forget that feeling for a very, very long time, if ever.

“Now I need another shower,” Elio said in mock irritation a few minutes later. They were lying on the bed, curled up close and facing each other. Elio was rubbing Oliver's feet with his distractedly.

“I wouldn't recommend one now because you'll need another before the end of the night” Oliver said, grinning mischievously. “Or two. Or three.”

“You really meant it when you said you wanted to make up for lost time,” Elio said, eyeing him. “You sure you can even come through, old man?”

Oliver nudged at his chest playfully. “I thought I had proven myself these past few days.”

“Yeah,” Elio agreed and kissed him. “You did.”

They lay there exploring each others’ mouths, no words exchanged.

“You know,” Elio said, finally breaking the silence. “I'm going to miss you. Can I say that?”

“You can,” Oliver replied, stroking Elio's beautiful face and lips. “I'm going to miss you too.”

“Where does that leave us?”

Oliver sighed and shifted uneasily. “Elio...”

“I know, I know, we've been over this,” Elio said, immediately cutting him off with a hand gesture. “I just want to know where we stand. Am I going to have to wait another seven years before I see you again?”

Oliver hated the way Elio was trying to act nonchalant despite the obvious tension in the air. He was feigning calmness the way Oliver used to fake confidence - when really, they were just asking the other to fill a void. If anything, the way Elio was firmly avoiding Oliver's gaze, seemingly more focused on the circles he was drawing on Oliver chest, was a dead give away.

They'd been over this before -  that much was true - but that didn't mean the prospect of a future relationship grew any clearer for Elio, or for him.

“No, definitely not. I'll try to visit more often,” Oliver said softly, “and maybe, you could visit us as well.”

Elio muffled a laugh. “Sure. Why waste money on accommodation when I could stay over. We could easily sneak into the bathroom at night for a quick fuck,” he said, unable to hold back the bitterness in his voice, adding, “and in religious silence of course, so your wife and kids won’t overhear us.”

Oliver didn't need to say anything for Elio to realize that he was treading on spite. “I'm sorry,” Elio said quickly.

Oliver continued stroking Elio's face, certain he'd get his feelings across without words. More than anything, he just wanted Elio to be comfortable speaking his truth, however painful it may be. “It's just that... even if you visited more, I can't see it happening without your family tagging along. It's only natural. I'm not sure I want to meet them. I'm so sorry,” Elio said, all in one breath. “And me visiting you, well, that's simply laughable.”

“I understand.”

“I didn't want to upset you.”

“No, I mean it. I'm not mad,” Oliver said, backing his statement with a lingering kiss. “She hates flying.”

Elio flinched slightly.

“Does she?” Elio said, slowly. The flash in his eyes was short-lived, but not fleeting enough to escape Oliver’s attention.

Oliver hummed and nodded. “She’d rather drive for an entire day cross country than board an hour long national flight. There’s no chance she’ll ever cross the ocean,” he said. “You’ll never have to meet her, unless you want to.”

“Oh.” Elio bit at his bottom lip in an attempt to suppress a tiny smile, which didn’t go unnoticed by Oliver either.

“I think it’s for the best,” Oliver said. “Honestly, I wouldn’t feel at ease if my wife knew how I looked at you. Trust me, she's not a stupid woman.”

“Of course she isn't. She married you,” Elio said, and there was no hint of irony in his voice. “Maurizio is more naive, I guess.”

“You think he doesn't suspect anything?”

“No,” Elio said. “I know he doesn't. Not about you in particular, that is.”

“What do you mean?”

Elio ran a hand through his still moist hair. “I don't know. He said something weird shortly after we started dating, and it kind of stuck with me.”

“What did he say?”

“That he knows I don’t belong to him,” Elio said quietly, a flush spreading over his cheeks. “That I belong to someone else, and that he will hold his place for as long as this goes.”

Elio wouldn't meet his eyes, so Oliver grabbed at his chin and turned Elio's face towards his. A million questions were floating around in his mind, but ultimately, “What do you feel for him?” was all he could bring himself to ask.

Elio considered his words for a few seconds. “I love him. Not the way I...” He stopped mid-sentence. “It doesn’t matter.”

Oliver was sure he could feel his heart swell in his chest. It was beating fast, and he was overwhelmed by the mix emotions flooding his system all at once and afraid his soul would spill on the sheets if he dared to speak. He came to the conclusion that the wisest thing to do was to keep his mouth busy with Elio's, locking their lips in a bruising kiss that prevented him from saying something he couldn't take back.

Relieved, Elio sighed into the kiss, responding eagerly and moving even closer to Oliver, sticking a knee between Oliver's thighs. Arms and legs entangled, they ended up making love again, slow and hot, their lips only parting for the few split seconds when they needed to come up for air.

 

* * *

 

Oliver allowed himself a quick breakfast the morning of his last day. Looking down from his window, he caught a glimpse of Anchise waiting next to the car. Everyone was already gathered around it to say their goodbyes.

He climbed down the familiar set of stairs and smiled when he noticed Elio entering through the front door, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You're going to be late,” Elio said.

Oliver said nothing. He scanned the garden to make sure nobody was around and grabbed Elio by a hand to pull him into the broom closet. Elio barely had the time to yelp in surprise before his back met the hard wall. Oliver wasted no time kissing him until he was breathless, his hands closing in his hair.

Elio parted his lips to let Oliver's tongue in, relaxing into his tight hold. They had barely slept last night, using that time instead to say goodbye in all the ways they wanted to, and more than once. But it wasn't enough.

The unmerciful noise of the car engine starting brought them back to reality.

Oliver stepped away and looked at Elio's flushed face, taking in all of him yet another last time.

Elio grabbed him by his collar and pressed their lips together again, hard, nipping at Oliver's bottom lip, caressing the light cut with his tongue gently before releasing him.

“Let's go,” Elio said and stepped out the closet without looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I couldn't deliver the traditional happy ending some of you asked for. I couldn't - and didn't want to - find a way around as the only ending I picture for them is the bittersweet one from the novel.
> 
> Most of you have probably read that, but the "you belong to someone else" speech is word for word what Aciman said in a recent interview concerning the sequel. It's something Elio's boyfriend tells him, and I just couldn't help but adding it to my story since I happened to read it as I was writing and it fitted gorgeously. Oh, André! That man is a criminal, I tell you.
> 
> That said, please leave a comment, even if it's just to throw imaginary tomatoes at me! I promise I won't mind.  
> Infinite thanks to everyone who's been reading, and even more to the ones who have taken the time to comment every single chapter! I see you and appreciate you all very much. ♥

**Author's Note:**

> My dear readers, you have no idea how much your feedback means to me! Every comment and kudos brightens up my day. Please let me know what you think, and I'm forever in your debt!


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